


Torn Apart

by thewildreader



Category: Splintered - A. G. Howard
Genre: F/M, Sexy Times, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewildreader/pseuds/thewildreader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morpheus and Alyssa finally get some time away from weddings and court councils to get a different kind of busy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torn Apart

**Author's Note:**

> I have this great love for this series (I just finished Ensnared) and I've had a couple of scenarios for the characters bouncing around in my brain. This is the first of them.

Morpheus grinds his mouth against mine, our teeth scraping. He slams my back against the closed bedroom door and I push my tongue between his teeth. A growl rumbles in his chest.

I shiver at the delicious sound, pressing my chest closer to his and enjoying the strength packed in his lithe form. His hands grip my hips and I raise mine to fist his long hair. Another one of those animalistic growls escapes him and I moan against his mouth. His tongue tangles with mine.

“Alyssa,” he whispers. The word is gruff and he pulls away from my lips to look down at me. His eyes are glazed with lust and I release his colorful hair to push him towards the bed at the center of the room. Morpheus stumbles, his eyes narrowing. I give him another shove and he allows himself to fall back onto the mattress.

His eyes are heated and he cocks a single eyebrow at me.“You got me where you want me, luv?”

“Just stay down,” I tell him.

“Your wish is my command, my Queen.” He levers himself up on his elbows, kicking his feet out before crossing his legs at the ankles. Aside from mussed hair and burning eyes, Morpheus seems relatively unaffected.

And it pisses me off.

My chest heaves, my corset much too tight for my bust. My breasts feel hot and sensitive. The tulle skirt is too hot and I lean down to untie my knee-high boots. My fingers are unsteady, fumbling over the laces, and I huff impatiently. Morpheus watches silently, licking his lips. Finally, I pull off my first boot. The second one unties easier and I yank it off.

The netherling of the bed wears a lavish grin.

“What are you smiling at?” I snap playfully. He gives a small shake of his head. I creep in stocking feet towards the bed. His head rises as he watches me getting closer and closer to him. He sits up curiously.

I throw a leg across his lap and lower myself so that I’m straddling his thighs. His hands come up to grab my thighs. He grabs a little harder than he probably meant to, and way harder than I want because he ripped ten holes in my tights. I gasp.

“Morpheus!”

“Sorry, luv,” he says. He does not sound sorry. He keeps his shit-eating grin in place and says, “Might as well finish the job, I guess.” And he proceeds to slide his hands underneath my skirt, hook his fingers in the material at the top of my thighs, and pull. The sheer fabric rips all the way down my legs to below my knees.

“Morpheus!” My voice is a shriek now. He erupts into unabashed laughter.

In retaliation, I grip his waistcoat at the lapels and rip downward, pulling buttons apart. The laughter stops and he looks up at me, shocked.

“I liked this waistcoat!” he exclaims.

“I liked those leggings,” I shoot back. “You’ll need it off anyways,” I continue, and push it down his shoulders. He shifts to me as he pulls his hands out of the torn mess.

“So,” he says, waggling his brows. “What are you gonna do with me now?”

Leaning down, I feel a breeze run across the tops of my breasts and Morpheus’s gaze takes a nosedive towards my chest. The smirk falls off his face. Smirking, I press an open-mouthed kiss to under his jaw. He gasps, and I feel his body tense. He rubs his hands up my thighs. I shudder.

“Oh,” I choke.

“Take off your clothes,” he demands. I bite down on his collarbone and his breath shudders out of his lips. I suck a hickey into the bone before pulling back. I reach behind me to drag the zipper of my corset down and it falls away from my body, leaving me in my black strapless bra.

Morpheus stares up at me, seemingly awestruck.

“Take it off,” he begs. “Oh, please, take it off, luv.” His hands run up my sides, brushing the sides of my breasts. There’s an expression of pure worship on his face. A part of me wants to not to, wants to tease him and make him really beg for it, but my hands reach back of their own accord, wanting more than anything else to give him what he wants.

I have no problem undoing my bra clasp; I’ve been doing it since I was eight. Morpheus’s hands spasm on my hips. I hold my arms to my sides for a moment, keeping my bra from falling.

 _Get a grip, Al_.

Dropping my arms, I let it fall, pulling a bracing breath that I try not to let Morpheus see. His fingers clench on me before sliding up my body. He cup my breasts in his hands and I bite my lip to keep down a moan of ecstasy, Suddenly, there is a hand on my face and Morpheus’s thumb tugs my lip free of my teeth.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “I want to hear you.” Wetness gathers between my legs at his words. His hand returns to my breast and I have never been more thankful. His fingers pinch and twist softly at my nipples. I groan. Then his arms are wrapped around my waist, and I whimper at the loss of his hands on my breasts.

He shifts, and I realize that he was scooting us back against the headboard. His back hits it and he lets me settle back down onto his lap.

He’s hard.

I grind down onto him and he gasps. “Fuck, luv.”

I giggle until he leans forward and laps his tongue over my left nipple. I cry out and grips onto his hair for support. Blue bleeds through my fingers and my knuckles turn white as he licks again. I lower my head to rest on the top of Morpheus’s, panting and whimpering while he licked and nipped and sucked.

“You’re just so hot,” he whispers. His lips brush the sensitive underside of my breast and I start.

“Oh, shit,” I sigh.

“Alyssa,” he groans. I jerk away from him.

“Stop,” I pant.

“Wha-”

“It’s your turn,” I insist.

“Wait, hold-”

“I want you to take off your clothes,” I say over him. He shuts up fast. “All of them. Right now, Morpheus.” I slide off his lap and he growls as we rubbed together. He sits up quickly, hastily throwing his shirt off the bed before he stands up to toe off his shoes and strip off his pants.

It isn’t the first time I’ve seen him naked, but it is the first time I’ve gotten the chance to admire him, and it was the first time I know that we’re going to go all the way.

Morpheus is tall and broad-shouldered, but over all, he’s not really broad. His blue hair is in tangles from where I raked my fingers through it, his collarbone stained with my love bite. I allow my eyes to run down his body, stopping at his cock.

It is flushed, long and thick and furiously hard.

A brush creeps up my chest, coloring my throat and cheeks.

“See something you like, little love?” I blush redder.

“Of course not,” I retort. Morpheus chuckles.

“Let’s get your skirt off, huh?” he asks. I nod my head eagerly and scoot to the edge of the bed.

“I like this skirt, Morpheus.”

“I’d like it better if it were on the floor,” Morpheus growls.

“I mean, don’t. Rip. It.” “No promises made.” I swat lightly at his bare chest. The contact is delicious. I curl my fingers over his shoulders as he drag my skirt down my hips, then my lace panties with the ruined remnants of my tights. He lowers his lips to the inside of my now-bare thigh, near to my core. I jump and then move closer. His tongue flicks out to tease the top of my thigh.

“Morpheus, please,” I beg, rocking my hips forward. Without warning, his tongue swipes over my clit.

I scream, clutching his hair. My head drops back, my white-blonde and venom-red hair tickling my lower back. My lips shake apart with a moan, eyes closing. The entire focus of my brain is directed to the sensations emitting from between my thighs. He torments my folds and bites at my clit, driving me towards the edge of complete madness.

My eyes crack open, hypnotized by the blue head moving at my core. My nerves are electrified, and I’m so close, when he suddenly he pulls away, licking his lips.

“Fuck, your taste,” he growls. I shiver.

“Come here?” It comes out as a question.

“’Course,” he grunts. I lay back and he follows suit, holding himself carefully atop me. Skin presses against skin, out chests, our stomachs, our thighs, his cock to my core. It is nothing short of the best feeling in the world. In a breathy tone, I tell him as much.

He groans.

“You’re going to kill me, luv.” I press my breasts tighter against his strong chest as I wrap my legs around his hips. There is a choking sound from above me.

“Please,” I whisper.

“Holy shit,” he gasps.

Then I feel the head of his cock press against my interest. I whimper, squirming against him desperately.

“Please, Morpheus, please.” Morpheus groans, hair falling around his face. I grip his shoulders again, pressing my face into him. He slides in an inch and I let out a whine. I can hear him gasping in my ear as he presses forward another few inches and I cry out from the pleasure.

It feels like he’s going to split me apart and I love it.

Finally, he pushes into me fully. I cry out, my hands scrambling down his back for purchase, nails clawing at his pale skin. I moan as he moves inside me, feeling myself get closer and closer to the edge. His pace becomes ragged as he pounds in and out of me, and I know he’s close, too.

With a final thrust that pushes him as deep inside of me as he can go, I shake apart, crying his name as I come.

“Alyssa. Luv,” he chokes, and I feel the heat of his climax inside of me. He collapses over over me and the feel of his weight on top of me is heavenly. I cuddle under him with a blissful sigh.

“Am I crushing you?” he asks with a laugh.

“Huh-uh,” I say, closing my eyes and pressing my cheek to his. His fingers find mine, wrapping around them. Morpheus’s hands are so much bigger than mine; it’s almost comforting.

“You’re a cuddler, too,” I mumble. He snorts.

“I don’t cuddle,” he says, rolling off of me and wrapping an arm around my waist. He secures me tightly against him. I turn over, burying my face in the crook of his neck, right between his collar and his jaw.

“Yeah, right,” I laugh.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sings. His fingers fiddle with the ends of my hair, but I keep one of his hands trapped between our chests where I hold it.

“Love you,” I say, nuzzling into him.

“Not as much as I love you, my Queen.”


End file.
